Mrann d'ssinss
by Shrike
Summary: A drow romance? I think NOT .... Read and review please :


Ok, this story was finished and posted, rated as NC-17 some tome ago and was, thus, taken down because of its explicit scenes. Hehehe. *ahem* anyway I decided to put it up again, at least the first two chapters. I think I'll write the new (read: acceptable) ending later if I get enough reviews, but if you want to read the original 3rd chapter just e-mail me.  
  
Zessra and the plot are mine. All other names/places/characters belong to R. A. Salvatore. He's done a great job in his books; I'm here just filling in gaps with juicy details :).  
  
The title means 'male lover' in language of drow. It was inspired by 'L'AMANT' (The lover) written by M. Duras. However, it has little else to do with that (excellent) book :).  
  
All drow words/phrases are from Drow Dictionary (found on WWW).  
  
Enjoy, IF YOU CAN :  
  
MRANN D'SSINSS  
  
The male was on his kness. Bolts of pain ran trough his back and down the spine making him feel every nerve, even in legs, jump in agony. Still, he didn't move; he knew better. Dinin could only hope the brutal female would tire soon. Briza flashed her precious possession, a snake-headed whip like there was no tomorrow. She had already forgotten the reason why - the so called reasons never mattered to her. She called it "teaching males their place in drow world". There was something about Dinin that drove her berserk ever since she was his wean-mother, and she didn't miss opportunities to teach him lessons even long after her 'obligations' towards him ended. Frenzy of the moment blurred her reason and bared pearly white teeth in pointy-toothed smile. She was tongueing sharp edge of one of fangs in shear exhillaration as her arm pumped on and on. Dark elves had slightly longer canines than humans or surface elves, revealing their blood- thirsty nature at the first sight. The first sight of a drow was the last one for most creatures unfortunate enough to encounter them. Dinin clenched his teeth, painfuly tightening jaw muscles. He could feel sweat beads forming on his forehead, and prayed that this mixture of sweat, blood and fear would somehow pass unnoticed by Briza's keen sense of smell. He knew it would only make her more savage and beyond sane comprehension, if she ever had any to start with. She could easily kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Retaliation against any female was far worse than death and Briza was no less than a high pristess of Lloth, the Spider Queen, and wouldn't even have to bother to explain or justify why she had killed a mere male. Even if it was her own brother. Dinin realized the torture had ended when he heard no more of unnerving slashing sound the whip made on contact with his bare flesh. He was beyond pain or any feelings by that point. Briza was breathing heavily somewhere above his head, but he didn't look up. He was sure it would only make her start again. With eyes obediently fixed to the floor, Dinin wondered if he would be able to get up in time if she ordered him to leave. To stay meant to disobey, to disobey meant to die. Slowly. His soaked in sweat, stark white hair was glued to sides of his face and his pointed ears, so he didn't hear the sentence Briza snarled out. He felt it soon though, as one stong hand grabbed a fistful of his long locks and jerked his head roughly up.  
"Get out I said!" - with eyes still on the floor, Dinin felt hot breath on face. "A'dos quarth malla yathtallar" - he could't risk an eye contact; it might trigger the beast ih his sister again. Instead, he fought to get his feet underneath him before she let go of his hair. Before she had a hand free for punch, that is. Acting purely on instinct and subconciuos motorics, he walked out of the room, never feeling ground beneath him, or anything on his body. Dinin knew too well the effect of Briza's whip. Soon this numbness will give way to hot burning pain, pain that made many nights through decades of his life sleepless and hellishly infinite. But the pain will cease eventualy and he was still drawing breath, and that's all that mattered to him. The world of drow was difficult, cruel and left no place for luxurious hopes. He was no fool. Dinin's meaning of life was pure surviving; any higher ambition would make him a dead dark elf and poisoned daggers lurked from every corner here, in Underdark. Clench your teeth and obey; live to wake up the next day.  
  
Zessra just came round corner when Dinin appeared in hall. Though they were using infrared spectrum for 'seeing' in this utter darkness, she recognized his form unmistakeably only by looking at his back. Dinin was trained as a fighter and a good, expirienced one he was. His body was body of a dark elf warrior; musculed and slender, moving with grace and constant alert, ready for action all the time. Zessra's lips curled up in lascivious grin; she had eyed this male for quite some time. She approached him from behind and was surprised that his warrior's instincts didn't make him turn to see who's at his back. It was then she noticed the state he was in; hair in mess, piwafwi - the shielding cloak pulled to one side and torn at several places, hands hanging limp by his sides, far from hilt of the sword he carried. Zessra knew what meant to be unprepared, voulnerable and uncautious here. He was lucky some other drow didn't approach unnoticed like she just did. She walked toward him, and when passing the door Dinin just walked out from, Zessra noticed Briza's self-content face as she placed snake-headed whip back on her belt. Zessra hurried on, not wishing to linger long enough for Briza to take notice of her. She had herself felt Briza's ire, never explicitly as males of the house, but vividly enough to avoid the aggressive female. Besides, she had other things in plan. Dinin turned another corner, Zessra following soundlessly. She knew he was headed for his room where he'll try to heal his aching body and wounded pride. Zessra smiled faintly at that notion; yes, Dinin was very proud, so unlike his father Rizzen. Pride was not considered a virtue for a male; was not even considered wise, but Zessra couldn't help liking this characteristic stubborn Dinin's personality possesed. It was summed up so perfectly in his cocky smile she just couldn't resist any more. She desired him. Zessra decided now was the perfect time to satisfy her hunger.  
"Elderboy Do'Urden!" - she called in firm voice of a Lloth priestess. Zessra was only a lesser priestess of the house and Dinin was a noble, son of Matron Mother Do'Urden, but she was still in rank above him just by being a female and one of Lloth's clerics. Dinin flinched and stopped when realizing how unalert he was and how dulled his usualy reliable senses had been. He tried to put some dignity in his sunken shoulders and slightly stooped, aching back by straightening up and raising head high. The gaze went to his feet, of course; he was too tired for another conflict with females of the house today. Zessra stopped in front of him, semicirculing like a cat would helpless mouse. She could see Dinin's face glow brightly in infrared as his cheeks burned with shame and anger. But other marks, too bright and too hot, were showing on male's face and making Zessra's superior smile disappear. Briza didn't use only her six-headed whip today. Zessra wondered just how much pleasure Briza really got from smearing knuckles with drow blood. She reached out and touched Dinin's chin, raising gently the handsome face to examine the damage done by his sister's fists. Dinin shifted focus from floor to Zessra's hand, and she caught ligh of smouldering fire in his ruby- red eyes. This male was a cynic, so unaffraid, boiling inside! Zessra guessed those were the same characteristics Briza and other females continually tried to beat out of him. She laughed inwardly; those females were so narrow-minded! They could not appreciate nor stand individuality and indipendence in drow males, and thus treated them as totally replaceable, expendable objects. How foolish! They will never tame this one, only make flames in his eyes burn more furiously. Zessra was determined to try a different approach.  
"Dinin" - she pronounced softly, getting his full surprised attention as she knew she would. When she met his gaze, she tried to make her eyes look as soft as her voice sounded. It was a conscious effort, for she had centuries of instinctive frowning at males behind her. Dinin's eyes were trying to penetrate hers, trying to find clues to her real intentions, trying to strip away her mask of politeness. He had lived in female dominated world of Menzoberranzan far too long to expect kindness or pity from them, and had lived among dark elves long enough to know of unpredictable ways of his people. Himself included.  
"I shall heal your wounds." ALL your wounds - Zessra silently added. She could have asked this male, any male, to be her mate; to refuse one of Lloth's priestess was punishable by death. Zessra wanted to share pleasures with this one differently. She didn't want to yell orders because she didn't want this one calculating and cold. After centuries of taking whatever she desired, the female grew bored and tired of it. Zessra wondered if she could ignite passion, not just lust, in this particular, special drow.  
  
YATHTALLAR - High Priestess of Lloth MALLA - honored A'dos quarth! - At your command! 


End file.
